The Lost
by sunsetwriter
Summary: REVISED AND UPDATED Enterprise finds more than they bargined for in the Expanse. The origins of Section 31. This is not the Federation we all know and love. Warning some chapters are very graphic... Kind reviews appreciated
1. Out of the Ruins

Disclaimer: Enterprise and its characters are copyrighted by Paramount Studios and Viacom. This is a fictional story, no copyright infringement intended. All stories and original characters belong to their respective author. 

Warning: This story is rated R. Several chapters of this work will be extremely graphic in nature and may contain violence and adult language and themes. Thanks to Saturn's Orbit for the idea. This is a response to Challenge #7.

Author's Note: I've rewritten parts of this story, so it's better if you start over again at the beginning. Everything inside the lines is flashback.

The Lost

Chapter 1

Out of the Ruins

"Out of the ruins

Out from the wreckage

Can't make the same mistake this time."

- We Don't Need Another Hero by Tina Turner -

"Computer stop. Delete." Archer said, as he paced his room. He had been trying to make this recording in his personal log all day, but he just couldn't seem to get it right. "Computer, restart recording. Captain's personal log, supplemental. It's been three weeks since we lost her. The bridge doesn't seem the same without her there, even though she wasn't really part of our crew. She seemed like belong, but she wasn't one of us. On the positive side, she did manage to make significant contributions during her stay." Archer walked over to the table and took a sip of water as he paused to gather his thoughts. "Trip asked to return to duty today. I told him that as long as he was cleared by the doctor, it was fine with me. Computer, end recording." Archer sat on the corner of his bed. His beagle jumped up beside him, brushing up against his side in support of his master. Jonathan looked down momentarily as he stroked the beagle's ears. "I would never admit this to anyone but you," he said to the quadruped, "but I miss her. I really miss her."

"There wasn't much in this corner of the Universe – no new species to make first contact with, no new planets to explore. Enterprise was on her way home from the Expanse, our mission complete; our mission successful. We can into the Expanse to find a weapon, and left, finding two things we never thought we would find here. What the Enterprise would find shook all of the lives of the crew, mine included."

"It started out as a routine day. We did some long range scans on the bridge while Trip was busy in Main Engineering, refitting the engine manifolds. Malcolm was supposed to be on the bridge, but since it was slow, he asked to go to the armory, to gather some munitions reports. It was only Hoshi, T'Pol, Travis and myself on the bridge when we found her ship."

"Captain, I'm detecting a small vessel off our port bow," T'Pol reported. "Twenty parsecs away."

 "No energy signatures. One life sign aboard. They're just floating," Travis added.

 "They may be in distress. We should contact them and offer our assistance."

 T'Pol turned towards Hoshi and gave her a nasty look. "Captain, that may not be wise. The vessel may not want our assistance. Not all species…"

 "If they were not in trouble, why would they be adrift out here in the middle of nowhere?"

 "All I'm saying is perhaps we should wait, take more scans and monitor the circumstances before we enter situation that may put the ship and her crew in jeopardy."

"Captain…"

"Okay, that's enough you two. Hoshi, can you hale them?"

"No response, sir."

"Ensign Mayweather, set a course, maximum warp. T'pol, start scanning the ship and its surroundings. Hoshi, continue to hale them. If they respond, let me know. I'll be in my ready room." 

"I didn't really need anything in my ready room, I just wanted to get away from the bridge for a while. Besides, there was nothing for me to do anyway, besides watch the others work. Because it was such a short distance away, it wasn't long before a com signal beckoned me to return to the bridge."

"Bridge to Captain Archer. We're approaching the unknown vessel."

"Polarize the hull. Senior officers to the bridge. On my way."

Jonathan Archer stepped out of his ready room and onto the bridge just as the turbo lift doors opened, emptying Malcolm and Trip into their places. "Report."

"The ship is adrift, sir."

"Cap'n, it looks as if that ship has no engines," Trip reported.

"There are no weapons signatures in the vicinity, no marks on the hull. They've been removed, not destroyed." Malcolm was puzzled.

"What about life signs?"

"I'm pickin' up one. Can't localize it. Our scanners are still being deflected."

"I wish I had known then what I know now. I would have left her there to die. She would have suffocated, and her pain would have ended quickly. But now, I have condemned her to a life of hell, a life I've forced her to live, a hell I can't rescue her from."

He paused momentarily to collect his thoughts. "I've put too many lives in danger. I just don't know…."

"Two people. Why did I risk the lives of two people for that? It wasn't long after the shuttle pod docked that the derelict ship began to shutter and shake. Pieces of it's hull came flying by the view screen, as if they were props in an ancient three dimensional movie. Enterprise held still as the smaller vessel began to implode, and with it two of my senior officers."

"Trip, rescue plan."

"It's gonna be tricky, Cap'n. We won't be able to transport to or from the ship cause of their deflection technology. We'll have to take a shuttle pod. But that ship out there's fallin' apart. I'd say no more than two people."

"Take Malcolm and get to it."

"Yes, sir."

Malcolm and Trip walked through the dark ship. There were no light, no heat. It was cold and condensation had frozen to all of the control panels. They stumbled through debrid, heading towards the bow of the vessel, hoping to find the control center or the imhabitants, whichever came first. 

"Boy," Malcolm joked, "I thought your quarters were a mess." Just then, Malcolm, who was too busy joking to notice where he was stepping, tripped and fell. 

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Malcolm replied, dusting himself off."

"You sure," Trip asked, exaimining Malcolm's suit. He shined the light onto  Malcolm's chest. The clean white EV suit had been stained with a  bright red mark. "Malcolm, you've got blood all over you."

"What? I'm not hurt. I'm fine."

Malcolm flashed the light towards the floor. Bodies littered the ship, flown haphazardly around. "There must be thirty dead, at least."

"Come on. Let's find the survivors, and get outta here. This place gives me the creeps." Trip took one more step forward, and was met with weapons fire.

Jonathan watched in anticipation of some communication from his officers as the little vessel shook and shimmied. It let out a groan, as its walls became unstable. "How long?"

"One hour, sixteen minutes," T'Pol answered.

"Archer to shuttlepod one. What's going on down there?"

"Captain, we've come under weapons fire. Seems like the occupant of this ship doesn't really want our help after all."

"Malcolm, you and Trip get back to the shuttle pod. That ship is going to implode."

"Ey, Captain. Let's go," 

Malcolm pulled on Trip's EV suit, motioning him back to the docking doors. But before he could move from its path, a piece of the hull fell on him, damaging is EV suite and pinning him to the dying ship.

"Ahh," Trip screamed in pain, as Malcolm attempted to free him from his prision. "It's no use. You're not going to be able to move it alone, and this ship can't hold another person." Trip panted through the pain. His legs were numb, but his head ached. His side pained him with every breathe. "Go, Malcolm. Go. You've gotta leave me behind."

"I won't leave you, sir."

"If you don't we'll both die." But Malcolm wasn't impressed by Trip's heroics. "Don't make me order you."

Malcolm darted towards the shuttle pod doors, but as he did, he looked back one more time, focusing on the face of the officer he would leave behind. Like a blur, a smaller face flashed in front of him, and Malcolm would have sworn, that it was the face of a child, a human child.

"Computer pause recording." Jonathan Archer sniffled as he walked into his bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and wiped away the tears. "Computer, enable privacy locks." The computer beeped in compliance. After all, nobody should ever see the captain cry.

He reentered his room, at down by Porthos, and restarted his recording. "So, where was I?" He asked his dog. "Oh, yeah, I had just sent two of my senior officers to get killed, one of which was now trapped on a ship that's about to implode with a hostile alien. Computer begin recording."

"Time was running out. T'Pol estimated that the ship would implode in twenty two minutes. Malcolm returned to the ship, and was immediately transported to sickbay with a severe concussion. Trip was still aboard the alien ship, under fire from a hostile alien, and we had no idea how to save him from certain destruction. Communication were nonexistant, but I was unwilling to give up the life of the best engineer Star Fleet had ever known. We were coming dangerously close to a deadline, without any results.

"There has to be a way to get Trip off that ship."

"The only way to get Commander off the alien ship would be to reboard that ship, risking the lives of more crewmen."

"So, what," Jonathan approached her. "We leave him behind to die. We let his starve, suffocate and freeze to death. That's not an option, Sub-commander, that's a cop out."

"The good of the many…"

"Save you're Vulcan logic, T'Pol." Archer paced the bridge floor, looking for the answer that illuded him. "I'm going to sickbay. Maybe Malcolm can give us some answers."

Sounds of screaming filled the halls of Enterprise's third deck. Archer knew that voice. It was Malcolm, but he couldn't understand what was being said. The doors hissed open, and Archer entered the bright sick bay.

"Doctor, what's the problem?"

"Lieutenant Reed has severe head trauma. He.." Phlox struggled to keep the security officer on his bed. "He seems to be refusing treatment."

Malcolm squired out of the doctor's arms just after the hiss of the hyposray touched his neck. He pushed the caring doctor aside, wobbling and swaying, fighting the alure of the sedative to bid him to sleep.

"Captain, I have to go back. I can get them out."

Arched, puzzled by Reed's misuse of pronouns, rejected the idea immediately. "You're in no condition…"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not asking." Malcolm threw a punch towards his captain, making contact with Archer's jawbone. The captain fell to the ground with a loud thud, as Reed ran out the door, only pausing for a moment to apoligize. "I'm sorry sir, but I have to do this."

"Bidge to Captain Archer," Mayweather reported, "I'm detecting an unauthorized launch." He flicked several buttons on the console in front of him. "It's Malcolm, sir." 

"Hale him." It seemed like an eternity until the communicator beeped. "Malcolm, stop what you're doing. It isn't safe. We can find another way." But only static answered back. "Malcolm, you're in no condition to attempt a rescue mission. Return to sickbay. We'll get another team together."

"Should I deploy the grappling hook," Mayweather questioned. Archer nodded his head, as Travis pushed buttons. "First attempt. He eluded us, sir. First attempt failed. Trying again."

"Lieutenant Reed is the head of security for this ship,"T'Pol pointed out.

"So, what's your point," Archer snapped back.

"Only that he would be aware of any and all attempted we would make to retrieve him, as well as methods to thwart those attempts. We will be unsuccessful, unless we think of plan previously unattempted."

A knock on his door disturbed Captain Archer's thoughts. "Computer, pause recording."

"Captain, would you like to take a meal with me?"

"Thanks, T'Pol, but not today. I'm a little busy. Thanks anyway." He closed the door, practically in her face, and returned to the solace of his room.

It was refreshingly quiet in Jonathan's room that night. So quiet, in fact, that he didn't realize what time it had gotten to. He had some peanut butter and bread which he could snack on later if he got hungry, but right now, it was the catharsis of his confession that he longed for.

Jonathan took a scoop of dog food out of the cupboard and placed it in Porthos' bowl, which sent the hungry dog running. After changing Porthos' water, he returned to his testimony. "Computer restart recording."

Malcolm docked with the small alien vessel. It was dirty, and bore the scars of weapons fire along its outside walls. Inside, metal which once wrapped the ship, like a child warm blanket, hung precariously about. The ground beneath Malcolm Reed's feet shook violently, as pieces of metal and pipes fell from above. He mastered the ability of keeping his balance while sailing as a child, but several violent shakes swept his feet out from underneath him, and he fell hard to the floor of the ship.

 "Trip," Malcolm called.

"Over…. Over there," a little voice called. But Malcolm couldn't identify it's source.

"Malcolm, you've got three minutes till that ship implodes," the Captain commanded over the com.

"Trip…. Trip…" Another violent shake.

"Here. He's here." Out of a whole in the sub flooring appeared a young girl. She looked barely fifteen, and her clothes were ragged and torn. She was dirty, and looked emaciated. "He's there. against that panel."

It wan't the exact spot that Malcolm left him, and the metal which once imprisioned him was now gone. Malcolm ran to Trip's side. He had been freed of his jail, but his injuries in extensive. Malcolm brought him to consciousness by patting his face. 

"Hey, where did she go?"

Malcolm turned around, but the girl was gone. "I don't know. She seems to have disappeared, which is exactly what we should be doing as well."

"One minute," Archer's voice reminded.

"I'm not leavin' without her."

"Oh yes you are, sir." Malcolm threw Trip across his shoulder, despite his objections.

"Put me down. Put me down, that's an order. I'm not leaving without her. Wait. We can't leave yet." 

But all of Trips ranting and ravings fell on deaf ears. Malcolm had but one agenda, to get Trip back to the shuttle pod, and back to Enterprise.

"Enterprise  to Shuttle pod. Come in. They must be hurt. Have Sickbay standing by. Travis, get the grapping hook, and get that shuttle pod." Archer sat back down in his chair heavily.

Malcolm fought the urge to sleep, but his opponant was too strong. He put his head back on the rest of the chair, and closed his eyes, confident that Trip, secured in the seat behind him, was safe. A deep and dark nightmare took hold of Malcolm, dragging into the depts of hell as the grappling hook took hold, like a mother reaching for and cradling her sons.

"They got back to the shuttle pod, and back to Enterprise all right. The ship imploded into a horrible fireball. We were concerned with Trip's health mostly. With our objective met, we didn't even try to help the alien aboard. It wasn't until later that we would find out the extent of the contents of the ship, and the mistakes we had made."

"As soon as the shuttle pod was aboard, I unlatched the hatch and opened the rear bay doors. Trip was in hysterics, screaming something about a girl aboard the ship, and how he had to save her. Dr. Phlox sedated him almost immediately, and took him to sickbay. Malcolm was unconsoius, but Phlox assured me it was only due to the medication he administered previously. Otherwise, the shuttlepod was in good order, undamaged my the heroics of my security officer. It seemed rather empty, but then again, we didn't look very hard." Archer took a deep breath and looked out the window at the stars going by. They were dense and fat and so bright that Jonathan barely needed lights in his quarters. He thought about how beautiful they used to be, as he gazed up at them from the distant Earth. But now, they were constant reminders of the mistakes he made and the lives he ended.

"The floor was littered with metal from fallen bulkheads. Litter was everywhere, but that wasn't the horrible part." Malcolm proped himself up on the biobed. 

"What was the horrible part, Malcolm?"

 "Captain, there were two rooms in the ship. One had all of the controls." 

I remember Malcolm's voice stuttered involuntarily. He seemed quite bothered by what he was about to tell me. Shifting in his shoes, he couldn't stand still. He told me…. he told me that the other room contained thirty dead, mutilated bodies. He described the smell as putrid, like they had been rotting away for weeks. Their bodies had been…." He wanted to say, to speak the atrocities that had been committed against these poor people. He wanted to talk about how their organs were all over, their blood spilled in large pools about the ship. He wanted to tell Malcolm that it was alright that he vomited at the sight of their dead corpses, but it was too horrible to even say, to even think about. "They had been tortured, but we will never know if their death hadn't been a result of that torture. We will never know who their families were, and their deaths will never be vindicated. Their burial was complete with the destruction of the ship."

That was all that Jonathan Archer could do for now. He couldn't think about it any more. "Computer stop recorded." He fell to his bed, and cried himself to sleep.

To Be Contimued….


	2. Left Behind

Disclaimer: Enterprise and its characters are copyrighted by Paramount Studios and Viacom. This is a fictional story, no copyright infringement intended. All stories and original characters belong to their respective author. 

Warning: This story is rated R. It is NOT for the faint of heart. Several chapters of this work will be extremely graphic in nature and may contain violence and adult language and themes. Thanks to Saturn's Orbit for the idea. This is a response to Challenge #7.

Author's Note: I've rewritten parts of this story, so it's better if you start over again at the beginning. Everything inside the lines is flashback.

The Lost

Chapter 2

Left Behind

"We are the children

The last generation

We are the ones they left behind"

We Don't Need Another Hero, by Tina Turner

Jonathan hadn't been asleep more than two hours when he was awoken with a nightmare. He dreamed he was being chased by people, dead people. He woke with a start, his heavy breathing and sweating. Jonathan couldn't shake the nightmare from his mind, and it was not something he wanted to return to quickly. So he got dressed in civilian clothes and took a walk with his small fuzzy companion, Porthos. 

It was three o'clock in the morning, according to his clock by his bed, when he stepped out his door. A little more than a hour later, he found himself in front of the sickbay doors. He remembered the screaming, the tears, the struggle.

"Doctor, report."

 "Do you want the short list of Mr. Tucker's injuries or the long list."

 "Are his injuries serious?"

 "He will need several surgeries to repair the shattered femur and lacerated liver, but I have managed to stabilize his vital organs for now." Phlox's restraining arms were replaced by a nurse. "But what concerns me more is the head trauma." Phlox stepped over to a console, and pushed several buttons before a picture of Trip's brain appeared. "His neural; cortex is destabilizing, probably a result of severe concussion, along with trauma induced by his surroundings on the ship."

"In English, Doc."

"Captain, Commander Tucker is in grave danger."

Archer separated himself from Phlox's side before asking, "Is he going to make it?"

"The only way I know to re-stabilize his neo-neural cortex is to put him into a deep sleep, effectively, to shut down that part of his brain. Hopefully, after sufficient rest, the problem will resolve itself.

"Effectively, to shut down his computer and reboot."

Phlox laughed under his breath He hated situations like this. He didn't want to admit defeat as a doctor, letting his patients die, but it was more than that. These people were his friends, and he didn't want to lose them. Phlox took the loss with some difficulty, although he played brave to the others. He never let them see his emotions. He never could let them see him cry. For their sake, he had to be strong. "Something like that."

 "Do your best, Doctor." He made his way to the Sickbay doors before he called, "Keep me appraised, Doctor." Then, he was gone.

Malcolm looked towards the door as the captain walked out. There was no hello, no 'how are your feeling today. Malcolm felt dreadfully alone without his best friend. He looked over to Trip's bed, but couldn't see anything, as a curtain concealed his friend's agony.

But Trips agony could be heard. He fought to get free of the arms holding him down. He swore and spat, wriggling as hard as he could, but nothing he tried made him move. He was stuck. Trip was in absolute hysterics. The doctor wouldn't tell him much about his condition, only reassuring him with no absolution that he would be alright if he would just relax. 

"I remember walking back to the bridge, and encountering several crewmen, to which I simply nodded. I don't know if they realized the magnitude of my depression and guilt then, but I wore them on my sleeve, even as early as a couple of days afterwards. I thought for sure that someone would report me to Dr. Phlox but no one did. I entered my ready room, where the remainder of my senior staff waited for their weekly meeting. I placed my cup at my chair. The meeting went rather quickly. Engines were running efficiently enough. Supplies were in abundant source, and communications from Starfleet were quiet, affording the Enterprise time to make necessary repairs as well as heal themselves. The only report of any consequence was a series of petty burglaries amongst the crewmen. Some clothes, blankets, and food was missing. Nothing too difficult for Malcolm to handle when he got on his feet tomorrow.

"Commander, in your condition, you shouldn't remain agitate like this. It will be detrimental to your recovery."

Entering cautiously, Archer ducked just before a surgical instrument hit the wall beside him with a loud thump. "Let me outta here. I'm not sick. I have to go back for her," Tucker yelled at the top of his voice.

 "Who is he talking about?"

 "Some person who he believes he saw on the derelict ship. He believes her to be alive and adrift still, and in desperate need of help."

 "How long has he been like this?"

 "Almost two hours. At first, I administered a sedative, but it had little effect. Repeating the dosage could put his life in danger. However, stress such as this could also be fatal. He needs to rest."

 "I understand, Doctor." Archer walked slowly towards the mad engineer. "Trip. What are you doing?"

 "Cap'n. You've gotta get me outta here. We've gotta get backta the ship before it implodes. There's a girl on the ship. She's human. She's a human being. We can't leave her behind. We have to save her."

"Trip, we were too late. The ship already imploded. There was nothing left."

 "Oh, God, no. No." Trip fell into a ball, and rocked back and forth. "Oh, God, no. No."

With a swish of a hyposray, Trip fell soundly to sleep. It was deep and dreamless, only a heartbeat away from the agony of the world he knew.

"A week went by, and then another. As Trip slept, more and more problems arose with the engines, but I was unwilling to compromise Trip's health for the warp engines. Unable to maintain a stable warp field, we were forced to maneuver on thrusters only, until the problem was resolved. Another week went by… Enterprise drifted along, looking, praying for a ally to come and help, a good Samaritan who would offer us a hand. But all we really needed was a good engineer. A little elf that worked in the thick of the night, gave me another clue that we had a stowaway on board."

"Engineering to the bridge."

Archer looked puzzled, as he hit the intercom button. "Go ahead."

"Sir, this is Ensign Pierce. I just came on shift about ten minutes ago. It seems that the alpha shift fixed the engines."

"Say again?" Archer threw a puzzled look towards Travis.

"The engines are fixed. Someone fixed the engines, but I don't know who. Warp engines are back on line."

"Understood. Archer out. Travis, set a course for home. Maximum warp."

Aye, Captain."

"Lieutenant Reed, I want to see you right now in my ready room."

This was the conversation Malcolm had dreaded for the past three weeks. He knew that the captain was going to take his actions seriously, and he knew there were going to be serious consequences. At least now, his dread would be over.

"I seem to remember a certain previously Lieutenant, now Ensign, hitting he in the jaw, trying to escape from sick bay. He stole a shuttle pod, and against direct orders, took that shuttle pod to a derelict ship, endangering his life, and risking severe damage, even destruction to the shuttle pod." Archer turned towards Malcolm, and looked him straight in the eye. Reed knew his disappointment. It was the same disappointment as he saw in his father's eyes, when he announced that he was joining Starfleet. "I thought at first that you weren't in full control of your faculties, after all, you did have a severe concussion. But now I know better. Turns out," Archer turned and faced the window, "that you're just a heroic son of a bitch, who won't take no for an answer."

"Sir, if I could apologize," Reed stated, but he was cut off, mid sentence.

"No, you can't. Because I putting you in for commendation for your actions. You risked your life to rescue to save another member of your crew. Damn fine work, son."

"Thank you sir," were the only words that the stunned Malcolm could ease out of his mouth.

"But that's not why I called you in here. Seems we have a thief on board, and I'd like you to assign someone to check it out."

"Of course, sir. I'll get right on it."

Sitting on his bed, Archer made a fist, and released it, then repeated the process. "When Trip woke up, his life went completely downhill. He… he was dealing with grief and frustration, but we didn't know who these feelings were for, and he left the rest of us to deal with his actions. At first, it seemed simple enough to cure him of his ailments. Three o'clock in the morning, and he had been up for two days without sleep. He worked out, drank warm milk, nothing seemed to help, not even the Vulcan neuropressure treatment with T'Pol. Nobody could console him. It was like the first day he found out about his sister, all over again."

Trip, T'Pol, and Jonathan sat in the Captain's private dining room. Jonathan had asked them to join him, in an attempt to cheer Trip up. He thought maybe T'Pol could tell them another story, but Trip's mind was so far away, he didn't hear, see, or feel anything that was going on in that room. "Commander, is your food unsatisfying this evening?"

"What… oh. Sorry Sub-commander. I guess my mind was wandering. What did you say?"

"Is your food unsatisfactory?"

Trip didn't answer. He simply moved the food around his plate with his fork. "You know," his captain said, "you're supposed to eat that, not play with it."

"Guess I'm not real hungry."

 "You look like hell, Commander. What's on your mind?" Archer inquired.

"She is sir."

"Your sister, you mean." Archer was being coy, trying to get his chief engineer's mind off the derelict ship they found two days ago, but it didn't work.

"No, sir. The one I let die on a deserted ship in the middle of nowhere. Excuse me. I think I'm finished." Trip slammed his fork into his plate, breaking the china.

"He hasn't been sleeping properly."

"What makes you say that, T'Pol?"

"He has been seen early in the morning wandering around the ship. He is easily agitated, His speech is slurred, and he refuses to eat. He no longer wishes to attend the Vulcan neuropressure treatments which once helped his tension."

"I'll speak to him later."

 "T'Pol just nodded, and we finished our dinner in silence. Afterwards, I surprised Trip by showing up at his doorstep at twenty three hundred hours. I told him we were going for a walk, and we ended up in Sickbay, just as I planned. The doctor was waiting, and despite all of Trips pleas, I finally convinced him to take the medication the doctor was offering, and get some sleep. When I saw him the next day, he commented to me how well he slept, and thanked me for my help.

"It wasn't until two days later that the next incident began."

"Engineering to Security. Please send a team down here right away."

Malcolm hit the intercom button on the panel to his left. "What seems to be the problem?"

"It's Commander Tucker, sir. He's acting real strange. I think he's drunk."

"Drunk," Archer and Reed said at the same way.

"Tell him we're on our way." Archer ran for the turbo lift doors.

The screaming could be heard from the turbo lift doors. Crashing sounds echoed through engineering as Trip threw replacement parts and tools to the floor and into the bulkhead. It was the worst Archer had ever seen him, and Jonathan knew him for quire a while. He never knew Trio to be a mean drunk, but this reality shattered the truth of Archer and Trip's friendship. "Where is he?"

"He's over there Captain."

 "Trip not only was drunk, he was so drunk that he could barely stand up. He had to hold onto a console and prop himself up. He hit every button on the Main Engineering console, but he couldn't seem to find the one he wanted. It's still amazing to me that he didn't overload the Warp Core, and blow us all up."

Jonathan Archer walked into his bathroom, and leaned against the counter, remembering the next part of his speech vividly. "I spent the better part of that day and night nursing trip back to health. I held his head out of the toilet while he vomited, and force fed him crackers and water. There was nothing we could be but to let the alcohol metastasize, and let his body do the rest. I didn't envy the hangover he had the next day.

Trip looked down at his feet as the Captain walked towards him. He prayed silently that Jonathan would keep walking, but he didn't.

 "Hey, Trip. How do you feel?"

"My head feels like it's ready to explode." A wave of nausea nearly overtook him, but Trip forced it down. "Sir, about yesterday, was I really as bad as everyone said."

 "Well… yeah, pretty much." Archer joked. Jonathan and Trip waited for the Turbo Lift together. "You said you were trying to turn the ship around. You wanted to go find the Sulibon, and kill them all." Jonathan stared the younger officer up and down. "I never knew you were so angry before, Commander. You should talk to someone about your hidden aggression."

"Great, now he thinks he's a psychiatrist," Trip spoke to the ceiling, before turning and facing his captain for the first time since the incident. Trip halted the Turbo Lift between floors. "Sir, I hope you know that that wasn't me. And I swear that'll never happen again. If you want to put a formal reprimand in my file, I understand, and if you want to relieve me of duty, I understand that too. I was way outta line. It will never happen again."

 "You're behavior the past few days, as T'Pol described, has been disturbing. But I need you. I need your expertise in Engineering. There will be no reprimands and no punishment. You've been through a rough time the last couple of days. If you'd like, I could make some time around lunch, and we could talk about it. I'm worried about you, Trip."

 "Thanks, Cap… thanks Jonathan."

 "With a pat on the back, Trip restarted the Turbo Lift, and we were back on our way. We did meet for lunch.

"It was about ten minutes after Malcolm left. I was screaming in pain. I couldn't breathe. It was agony. She crawled out from underneath the sub flooring. I don't know how long she had been on the ship, but she was dirty, and…"

"It's okay. Malcolm told me about the bodies."

"She got a pipe, and pried the metal off me enough to get me out, then pulled me to safety. She didn't say a word when she dressed my wounds, only sang."

"Sang?" Archer questioned? 

"Yeah, some song I didn't know. Now, I know we're a long way from home, but she really did look human. I could have sworn… she kept me warm, kept me alive until Malcolm came.

"Trip, you're not responsible for her. It's not like was your child, you couldn't have prevented this."

"You don't understand."

"I think I do. You're taking this hard because of your sister. You feel responsible for her death, like you should have been there to protect her. Well, even if you were, Trip, you wouldn't have been able to save he, just like you were never going to be able to save that alien."

"Girl, Cap'n. She was human. I know it, and I am responsible. We all are. This was our mistake,  and now, we're all goin' to hell because of it. She knew she wasn't going live, and all she wanted someone in this world to remember her after she had died."

Big tears flowed freely down Jonathan's cheek. He couldn't help it now. So much pain. So much heartache. He lowered his head, propping himself up on the back of the chair. "Trip cried. He was really torn up about this. It hurt him deeply, and it's hurt me as well. It's made me wonder about human curiosity. What about the children? What are we teaching them?"

 "I guess that's all we want out of this life, to be remembered for something good we've done in our lives. I don't know, but I think that why I came out here in the first place. But now I know that there's nothing good that come of this kind of exploration. I'm ready to go home.

"Red alert, Captain to the bridge."

"Computer, stop recording and save.

To be continued…


	3. Living Under Fear

Disclaimer: Enterprise and its characters are copyrighted by Paramount Studios and Viacom. This is a fictional story, no copyright infringement intended. All stories and original characters belong to their respective author. 

Warning: This story is rated R. It is NOT for the faint of heart. Several chapters of this work will be extremely graphic in nature and may contain violence and adult language and themes. Thanks to Saturn's Orbit for the idea. This is a response to Challenge #7.

Author's Note: I've rewritten parts of this story, so it's better if you start over again at the beginning. Everything inside the lines is flashback.

The Lost

Chapter 3

Living Under Fear

"And I wonder when we 

are ever gonna change

Living under the fear, 

till nothing else remains"

- We Don't Need Another Hero, by Tina Turner -

"Captain, we're being stalked by an alien vessel. It has countered every move we've made."

"Have you tried hailing them?"

 "Yes, sir, and there has been no response. We used evasive maneuvers, however, still they follow."

 "Sub-commander, do you recognize the hull configuration?"

 "There is no hull configuration in the Vulcan database resembling the ship behind us."

 "So, what? They're just following us?"

 "Yes, sir," Mayweather responded.

 "Have they attempted to charge weapons?"

 "No, sir," Malcolm said.

"Should I polarize the hull plating, Captain?" Reed asked?

 "Not yet, Malcolm. They may just be curious about us, and mean no harm. If we polarize the hull, they'll take defensive counter measures."

"What do you want us to do sir?"

"Just wait, Malcolm. Just wait." Archer sat back in his chair, and daydreamed back several months. It had been a time just like this, some unknown person, stalking the Enterprise, and the crew, unknowing whether it was friend or foe.

He had been sitting in the captain's chair for several minutes, when he noticed that it was unusually quiet. He walked back to Reed's seat, "Malcolm, you're awfully quiet today."

"Just have a lot of work to do, sir."

"What's that? Chief Engineers going on a drunken rampage?" Archer looked at Trip.

"Very funny."

"Come and give me your report in my ready room, then you two can go to lunch."

"Captain," said the Chief armory officer, "I've been getting several strange reports over the past two days. Ten reports of petty theft, and twelve reports of… hallucinations, sir."

"so, how are you feeling, Commander" Hoshi asked, as Malcolm and Jonathan moved into the Captain's ready room.

"Fine. I'm fine."

Malcolm handed the PADD to Archer, as he gave his report. "The first report was made by the ensign who was restocking the shuttle pod I took. She said she noticed that emergency rations, water and blankets were taken, and she asked if we had used any."

"Well?"

"No, sir. There wasn't time. The next report of missing items was two days later. Again, food was missing, but this time from the commissary. The chef said he noticed  some ingredients for a pie were gone, but later reported that someone had… someone had made the pie, and left it to cool on a table in the mess hall."

"That's strange."

"Yes, sir."

"Malcolm, what is it?"

"Sir, remember when the engines were off line? Ensign Pierce said that warp engines were fixed, but she didn't do it. She didn't know how the repairs were made.?

"What's your point?"

"Sir, I think we have an elf on board."

"An elf. Malcolm, I think you and Trip need to spend less time together."

"No, sir. What I mean is… there's an old fairytale about a shoemaker who goes to bed, and awakens to find all of the shoes have been made. I think we have an elf, an intruder who is trying to help us, trying to get us back home."

"Okay, Malcolm. Do I need to relieve you of duty as well?"

"Sir, I'm going to keep looking into this, if you don't mind."

"Of course." The captain handed the PADD to his security officer. "Dismissed. Enjoy your lunch."

As Malcolm left his captain's office, the communicator beeped. "Lieutenant Reed, could you please report to sick bay at once."

Malcolm gave Trip a look, and hit a button. "On my way." He approached Trip and Hoshi. "Why don't you two go on without me. I'll catch up."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, and Hoshi, make sure it eats something, will you."

About twenty minutes later, Malcolm kept his promise, and met Trip and Hoshi in the mess hall. They had already gotten their food, and Hoshi was almost finished. Trip, who still had no appetite, was moving his food from one side of the plate to the other, while distracting Hoshi by talking happily. 

"You are going to eat that."

"Now, Malcolm, when did you become my mother?"

"When I saved you ass from that ship and you decided to repay me for my heroic measures by slowly killing yourself."

"What did the doctor want?" Hoshi asked, changing the subject.

"Seems that five crewmen on the night shift reporting to sickbay this morning. They said they had some sort of hallucinations."

"What kind of hallucinations?"

"Strange, like people seeing a ghost. Crewman Hioto described it as a ghostly image of a girl, about fifteen years old. " Trip's face lit up. Could it be her?

"The doctor said he needed to run a few more tests, but physically, each of the crewmen seemed to be in perfect health. We must have an intruded on board. And now, after lunch, I get to crawl through several miles of Jeffery's tubes to fid them."

"How do you know that they're there?" Hoshi and Malcolm looked at Trip like a comatose patient who just woke up. There was a spark, a life in his voice that had been missing since the accident. "I mean, why don't you just use the sensors to find the intruder?"

"Don't you think we've already thought of that idea? After all, I am the Chief of something around here. What was that title again?"

"Chief drunk catcher, I think," Trip laughed, making fun of himself.

"Yes, I'm sure that's it. Now eat."

"After six hours of searching, security teams found nothing." A beep interrupted his train of thought. "What is it?" Archer said abruptly.

"Captain," T'Pol said, "may I speak to you?"

"Is there any news on the ship following us?"

"No, sir. They haven't changed course, despite Enterprise's change in trajectory."

"Illogical, isn't it Sub-commander. Keep me informed. Archer out."

"Captain…"

"Later, Sub-commander." Much later, he mumbled. "Computer, play back that last part." After the computer complied with his order, he began recording again. "Hoshi said that the stowaway was simply walking down the corridor towards Main Engineering when she saw her. It was safe to assume that it was this stowaway that repaired the Engineering systems. Over the next two days, she eluded several attempts to make first contact. She did, however, manage to steal more food out of the mess hall, and some medications out of Sick Bay. The doctor said it was odd, the combination of drugs that were taken. They had nothing in common, no disease or illness that he could think of that these drugs were to cure. I made it a priority of the senior staff, especially Malcolm, to find this stowaway, and on several occasions almost caught her, but she always managed to escape, like she knew every hatch by heart. It was almost as if she was intimately familiar with the ship's specifications, the way she handled the maintenance of the ship's systems, as well as her escape routes."

"I had a bad feeling, however, that one of my senior staff wasn't participating in the apprehension of this stowaway. Trip tried to buck me from the start. I never knew he would betray me like he did. I suspected Trip knew more than he let on about our stowaway, and he was keeping it from us. We'd have to find this person without his help."

He walked to the closet, and pulled out a suitcase, as he spoke. "Malcolm, T'Pol and I had an idea. We would set a trap. The engineering department offered us the most opportunity to arouse our stowaway's attention. She won't come out until late at night, so we set the trap for twenty-three hundred hours."

"When the plasma coils blew, the whole ship shook violently. Walls filled with crewman's personal items and supplies were emptied to the floor. The trap was set, and the mouse was about to spring it."

The convulsive ship threw Trip from his warm, comfortable bed to the ground. "Tucker to Engineering, what the hell was that?"

"Sir, the plasma coils just overloaded. The effect is cascading through all of the ship's systems. We had to shut down the Warp Core."

"On my way."

It only took Trip five minutes to dress and get to Engineering. He knew she would be down quickly as well, so he'd have to get rid of the staff on duty. He gave each person a task in separate parts of the ship, none of which corresponded to the current crisis. However, each crewmember picked up an equipment case, and headed off, as ordered.

Trip then proceeded to lock Engineering down. He secured the Main Engineering doors, and went to work.

"Why won't the doors open?"

"He's got the doors secured from the inside. I can override his security codes, but it'll take a moment, sir." Malcolm went to work. He opened the panel on the outside of the door, and pressing sequential buttons, made the doors open at his command.

Inside engineering, Trip was half way under the Warp Plasma manifolds, talking to someone outside of their sight. "Try it now," Trip called.

"It's working," Trip responded, just as the Warp reactor came back on line with a steady hum. Lights flickered, and Trip celebrated. The girl walked out to see she wasn't alone.

"Sir, I can explain."

"I certainly hope you can, Trip." His gaze left Tucker, and fixated on the young figure to his right. She was wearing a Starfleet jumpsuit, the regulation blue. Her blond hair was tucked into a ponytail. Although smudges of dirt masked her skin, Archer figured she couldn't be more than fifteen years old. "I don't believe we've been introduced." The young woman placed herself behind Commander Tucker. "Malcolm, take her into custody."

"Wait, Captain." Trip put out his hand, and stopped Malcolm in his tracks. "Please, don't do this."

"She's an intruder. Besides, it's Starfleet regulation that all parties boarding a Federation ship submit to decontamination and physical exam by the ship's doctor."

The girl looked panic struck at Trip. "Please, I'll take her, myself. You can follow."

"That's quite considerate of you, Commander, but you're relieved of duty by your own request, remember? As of this moment, until further notice, you are confined to quarters. I want a security detail posted outside his door. If one toe comes out of Trips quarters, throw him in the brig."

"Captain…"

"Malcolm, take her down to sick bay, and then to the brig, until we get some answers."

"Asian monish wash games," she spoke.

"What did she say, looking at Malcolm and Trip." 

"Got me," Malcolm said.

"She said…. She said 'take your damn hands off me.'"

"Is that right?" Archer said smugly. Nobody told him what to do on his ship.

"Sir, please, let me take her down to sick bay. Then I'll tell you all everythin' you want to know."

"To sick bay, Mr. Reed."

 "Yes, sir." Malcolm took the girl and lead her off, as she protested in an alien language. She struggled against him, but she was no match for his strength.

"I remember questioning Trip in his quarters later that evening. To every question, his only answer was, I cannot disclose that information. He would offer little information about her name, or where she  was from. One thing we did know. She came from that ship, the one we found floating in space, with thirty dead bodies on it. Realizing I would get no more information from Trip, I headed down to sick bay to interrogate our intruder, but I got no further with her than I did with Trip."

"On my way to sick bay got a com signal from Security. There was a disturbance, and my presence was requested. When we got there, the girl was gone. She had outsmarted the doctor, and escaped the custody of the security officers posted at the Sickbay doors."

Archer grabbed a few sweaters, and folding them neatly, began to pack them into the suitcases. "We spent the better part of that night tracking her down. Eventually, she found her way to Trip's quarters. It became apparent that she was the only person on the ship that she trusted, so I sent both of them to Sickbay." Archer returned to the closet for more sweaters. 

"The examination was brief."

 "Doctor…" Archer said, as he walked through the Sickbay doors.

 "I do not believe that she is carrying any contagious pathogens. However, I would like to performs some more tests. In the meantime," Phlox walked to a different console, and pressed several buttons, "I am getting some intriguing information from these scans."

 "Is she human?"

 "At least partly."

 "Partly?"

 "Some of these scans indicate completely human DNA, others show completely alien DNA, and still others a hybrid of both."

 "How is that possible?"

 "I don't know, Captain, but I won't be able to give you any answers without further tests."

"Let me know when you're done."

"Sir, she will not permit me to do any further testing. Seems our young guest has suffers from iatrophobia, the fear of doctors."

"I see." The doctor nodded, as Archer walked towards the young guest. "I'm Captain Jonathan Archer from the starship Enterprise. Welcome aboard." 

The girl said nothing as she got off the bio-bed, and stood at attention in front of him. She was wearing a regulation sleeveless tee shirt and shorts. On her left shoulder was a huge tattoo; a blue Starfleet insignia, with the number 31 in the middle.

 "Look, we mean you no harm."

"Captain, may I show you something?" Phlox removed the straps on her tee shirt, revealing a large scar across the back of her left shoulder. "This looks like a surgical scar, and it's relatively new from the red edges."

"What's that tattoo on her other shoulder? It looks like the Starfleet insignia. Are you a Starfleet officer?" 

"I'm sorry, sir. I cannot disclose that information," she said, still standing at attention

Without an answer to his question from the girl, Archer turned to his Chief Engineer. "Trip? Is she Starfleet?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I cannot disclose that information," he said, standing at attention.

"That's odd. Each of you gave me the same answer. And Trip gave me the same answer in his quarters, before the two of you would have had a chance to cooperate your stories. Something's going on here. Well, there's an old saying we have on Earth. There's more than one way to skin a cat. Do you know what that means?" he said, patronizing his young guest.

"Of course I do."

Archer was stunned that she spoke. "Are you a Starfleet officer?"

 "I cannot disclose that information."

Malcolm, who as present during the entire interrogation, interjected. "I can't believe this. Look, kid. All I have to do is download your name into the Federation database to get all of your information, so why don't you save us the trouble."

 "In time, Captain, you will know more than you want to. In time, you'll wish that you didn't know. Just give it time."

The ground shook beneath them, knocking Archer off his feet. "Bridge, report."

"We are being attacked by an unknown alien vessel," T'Pol said.

"Sub-commander, I was surprised that you contacted me this late. What seems to be the problem?" Phlox was his normal, cheery self, even in the early hours of the morning.

"I believe there is a problem with Captain Archer. He may not be fit for command."

To be Continued…


	4. Another Hero

Disclaimer: Enterprise and its characters are copyrighted by Paramount Studios and Viacom. This is a fictional story, no copyright infringement intended. All stories and original characters belong to their respective author.  
  
Warning: This story is rated R. It is NOT for the faint of heart. Several chapters of this work will be extremely graphic in nature and may contain violence and adult language and themes. Thanks to Saturn's Orbit for the idea. This is a response to Challenge #7.  
  
Author's Note: I've rewritten parts of this story, so it's better if you start over again at the beginning. Everything inside the lines is flashback.  
  
The Lost Chapter 4 Another Hero  
  
"We don't need another hero We don't need to know the way home All we want is life beyond thunder dome."  
  
- We Don't Need Another Hero, by Tina Turner -  
  
"The Captain has experienced several traumatic events in the past few weeks. It is normal for an adjustment to be made in behavior at this time. However, I will note your concerns both in my daily log, as well as his personal file."  
  
"I am afraid, Doctor that your note will not be sufficient." She turned so that she and Phlox were face to face. "He has completely mishandled this situation with the ship following us, he has lost focus. His judgment has become irreparably contaminated with his feeling for Anna and the members of this crew putting their lives in considerable danger." T'Pol words gave no reaction from the doctor. "If you refuse to examine the Captain, then I will have not choice but to report my findings to the Vulcan Council as well as Starfleet Command."  
  
"That won't be necessary, Sub-commander." An inquisitive look came over T'Pol face, as the doctor explained.  
  
Malcolm, T'Pol, Travis, and Hoshi were already at their posts when the captain entered the bridge from the turbo lift. The photonic weapons being fired at the ship blew conduits in consoles all around them. Archer stumbled to his chair.  
  
"Polarize the hull. Malcolm, ready torpedoes."  
  
"I can't, sir. Both torpedo tubes are offline."  
  
"Travis, get us out of here."  
  
"Engines are off line, sir."  
  
"Well, what do we have left?"  
  
"Impulse engines only."  
  
"Sir," Hoshi interrupted, "they're hailing us."  
  
"Put it through."  
  
The voice on the other end screamed words unknown to any human. Stricken with fear, Hoshi hurriedly attempted to translate the language as the words spilled out of the bridge speakers.  
  
"Cannoa speiak afege gegag."  
  
"Hoshi?"  
  
"Nothing yet, sir."  
  
"Sub-commander?"  
  
"They are a species known as the Candela, a nomadic species. They are an aggressive species, known for torturing their captives until death."  
  
"Wonderful. Hoshi, how are those translations coming."  
  
"He says give up the girl. He says they will let us go if we give her to them. He says she will be your death. She causes death to all those she goes... no comes into life with."  
  
"Sir," Malcolm reported, "I'm detecting an unauthorized launch. The launch bay commands have been rerouted. I cannot close them."  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
"The intruder. It seems she is leading the Candela away from Enterprise. Photon torpedoes are back on line."  
  
With great delight, Archer gave the command, "Fire  
  
"In the blink of an eye, the ship was disabled. Their weapons and engines were off line, giving Enterprise time to gather the shuttle pod and escape into high warp. We were long gone by the time their systems were repaired, but I knew they would pursue. It was only a matter of time until they caught up with Enterprise again, and only one thing could save us; the truth."  
  
"The shuttle pod had taken on some weapons fire in the battle, and minor damage was done. But by the time we retrieved it, the girl had fallen into a coma. We certainly weren't going to get any information from her anyway. So, we returned to the only other person who knew what was going on – Trip."  
  
"I regret my actions from this point further. I had a mess on my hands, and to fix it, I made an even bigger mess – of my friendship and my command. For obvious reasons, Trip was hesitant to give any information up. For two days, we pressured him. Until it came time – time to break him."  
  
"She's alien. The doctor's tests confirm it. She obviously belongs with them, so she has to go back."  
  
"No, she doesn't." Trip turned to his captain, until they were standing face to face. Only nanometers separated Trip's face from his captains. The rage flowed unevenly. He didn't understand it, but Trip knew deep inside, that protecting her was the right thing to do. He stared Jonathan in the eye. "I'm not letting you send her back."  
  
"Stand down, Commander." But Trip didn't move. "Stand down. That's an order."  
  
"I'm not leaving this room until I get some answers."  
  
Trip collapsed into a chair and began to cry. "You'll never send her back. You hear me? Never. Never." He looked up from his place, not as the witness being interrogated or the commander being reprimanded by his superior officer, but as a man, betrayed by a friend he once loved. "Why couldn't you just trust me on this? You've always trusted my judgment before."  
  
"Lately, you're not the Trip Tucker I know. You've gotten drunk before duty shifts. You've..."  
  
"Oh, that again? Are you gonna hold that over my head for the entire mission? Or should I just put my resignation in now?"  
  
"All I want to know was what was going on, Trip. I just wanted someone to tell me that, and you couldn't. You said that I used to trust your judgment, but that's when we had on open communication between each other, before you started keeping things from me, like the fifteen year old girl you've been hiding in you quarters."  
  
Jonathan knew right then and there that he had crossed the line, and there was no going back. Ever. At that point, Jonathan Archer lost his best friend. "Look," he reached over and put his hand on Trip's shoulder, "I'm on your side. We can get through this."  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"Sickbay."  
  
"NO," Trip screamed, as he pushed the guard away, but another came up behind him and caught his arm around Trip's throat.  
  
"Trip, you're just making this harder than it has to be."  
  
When the doors to Trip's quarters opened, Doctor Phlox was standing in waiting. "Ok, bring her here," he said.  
  
"Wait, wait, you don't have to do this.  
  
"Take car of him," Archer requested, as he left Trip's quarters. He stood outside the door, as Trip struggled against security's hold. Placing him face down on top of the table with his arms bent behind him, Trip had no choice but to surrender to the doctor's care.  
  
"Just relax, Mr. Tucker. Everything's fine." He prepared a hypospray. "I want you to know," the doctor said loudly, 'that I am doing this against my better judgment."  
  
"So noted," Arched cried behind the disguise of Trip's door. The doctor medicated Trip, and laid him out across the bed. It didn't take long for Trip to feel the effects of the medicine, and even in his delusional state, he knew that was no sedative the doctor gave him. It was truth serum. He was in for it – he was in for it now. Now the interrogations would really begin.  
  
"In Sick Bay, Anna scratched, clawed and screamed, but it was no use. The overwhelming strength of the three security team members and two MAKO's holding her down would not release her. The doctor spoke to her calmly, but still she flinched when the hypospray pressed into her neck. With all our reassurances, Doctor Phlox scanned her once again. I went to sick bay to check up on our patient as soon as the tests were complete."  
  
"The scans Phlox had completed earlier were correct. She had alien DNA in her. These organs were recently transplanted into her, about eight days ago prior to our discovery of her ship. Surgeries of this type are highly sophisticated. Specific medications afterwards are necessary to keep her body from rejecting the organs. Without those medications, the body will begin destroying the foreign tissue, and the patient will die. It's not a slow, painful death like the one we subjected her to. She would have been better off if we had just left her where we found her. She would have died without it."  
  
"I needed information, and only person who knew well enough to answer these questions was Trip. So, I paid a visit to Trip. Malcolm said he would interrogate the commander, that it would have been easier for me, but I knew it would have been no easier for Malcolm, or T'Pol, or Hoshi for that matter, than it would have been for me to ask those hard questions – to do what had to be done in order to help this child." Jonathan paused for a moment, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I wish I had never entered that room. When I got there, the medication had already kicked in, and Trip was in a fit of rage, destroying his quarters. As I entered, a vase crashed into the wall just over my head. I sat in a chair in the corner of his room while he screamed his insanities, and once there was nothing more throw, no more vulgar language to spill, he calmed down. The first thing he asked about was the little girl lying on a biobed in sickbay."  
  
"Trip, she's had some sort of surgery prior to boarding the ship, to transplant alien organs into her body. Now, her body is rejecting them. She needs medication to halt this process, but the doctor's attempts have failed. We were hoping you..."  
  
"You were hoping I would give her up, and tell you everything you wanted to know," Trip said snidely. He was angry, and with remorse, he now let his anger show. How dare they drag her away, and forcing her to submit to medical examinations. How dare they...  
  
"Look, I know thing between us have been less than civil lately, but this child's life hangs in the balance."  
  
"I'm not gonna tell you anythin'. So you go back to your bridge, and do whatever you have to do." He, for the first time, turned his back on his captain, his former friend.  
  
Jonathan stood up from his chair. For the past hour, he was sitting quietly, contemplating this move, this action he had to take. He didn't want to do this, but he knew it had to be done. Without warning, he reached his arm out, and punched Trip in the gut.  
  
"All I wanted was to know the situation, Trip. I never meant her any harm." Grabbing trip the collar of his shirt, he hit him again. He hit Trip again and again. Every time Trip would fall down, Jonathan lifted him up, only to inflict more damage. First to his jaw, then to his eyes, then to his lips. With every punch, every slap, a new bruise appeared. His face was swollen with the marks he caused. The once handsome, young man stood there like a prize fighter, about to get beat in the fifteenth round.  
  
But Trip was never one to give up. "No, like turning her over to aliens who were known to torture and kill their hostages? That's not meaning any harm, sir? Cause if that's not meaning any harm, I'd like to know what is, huh? Torturing her yourself? Spilling her blood all over sickbay? Would that be enough for you?"  
  
His calmness had turned to pain and anger. Jonathan turned to violent words instead of violent hands. He screamed at the younger officer, hoping to incite Trip into a verbal argument, resulting in the divulgence of the information he needed. "You didn't leave me any choice, Trip. You wouldn't tell me about her. All I knew was that she was an intruder. I was trying to protect the crew."  
  
"You didn't know anything about her, but you were ready to have her killed to protect yourself, you sorry coward," Trip was screaming, but Archer stood his ground.  
  
"All I wanted was the truth."  
  
"The truth? That's all you want? Well, here's the truth, sir. First of all, the she you keep referring to is a person, a really human being. Yes, that's right, she's human, and her name is Grace. By the way, she's nineteen, not fifteen. Second, she hasn't been sleeping in my quarters; she's been staying with Hoshi. That girl out there ran away from those aliens. Yeah, that's right. She ran away from them because they tortured her. They slaughtered her friends in front of her as they screamed for mercy. They slaughtered her friends in front of her as the begged her to tell them whatever they wanted to know, just to make the pain stop. And when they stopped breathing... They replaced her organs with those of their victims, so she'd never forget the pain that she caused them, that's what they said. They replaced her organs with those of their victims, so she'd never forget how much power they have over her, but still, she managed to go on. Gracie escaped. She took a shuttle pod and escaped. she was starving, slowly dying on that derelict vessel, but she didn't give up hope. After she saved my like, I promised that I would return the favor. You want to know what's been going on between us? I'll tell you. I love her. I love her so deep down inside that I can't stand to be away from her." His words became softer, more loving, more peaceful the more the thought about her, and how much Trip wanted her near him. "Is that enough for you, Captain, or would you like more?"  
  
The screaming, the fighting, the agony of not knowing the truth was over, and yet somehow, for some reason, Archer wished he had never known. Right then and there, panting hard, and sweating, with his best friends blood all over his hands and his shirt, he wished he had never entered this dark place. There was just no going back now.  
  
"My God, Trip. I didn't know."  
  
"That's right, you didn't. But now you do." Trip stumbled towards the bed, and laid down. His broken body ached all over, but the entirety of the pain came not from his wounds. They came from his heart. What little truth he gave his captain was no more than breadcrumbs compared to what was to come. He thought about Gracie, and fell asleep with the memories of the times they shared back in San Francisco.  
  
Jonathan left Trips quarters, greeted by security and the doctor.  
  
"Sir are you alright," the guard asked him.  
  
Still in complete shock, he ignored the question, and spoke to Phlox, "Do what you can for him. When he feels better, take to sick bay to visit..." God, she had a name now. She was real. Now she was a person, not just another victim that he couldn't save. The guilt and pain came at Jonathan like a tidal wave. "When he feels better, take him to sickbay to visit Grace."  
  
"So, she has a name," Phlox joked, but Jonathan was not amused. He was rather offended by the insensitivity of the comment.  
  
"His words kept echoing in my ears, words like torture and death. I was never there. I don't have the horror of seeing what Grace, and Malcolm and Trip saw, but I do see it, every night in my nightmares. I admit, I've started to drink a little before I go to sleep, if for nothing more than to pass out into a deep and dreamless sleep, but even the alcohol hasn't helped me lately. I'm so torn by my guilt and pain... I just don't know what to do anymore. What had I done to this poor child?" The doorbell rang once. "Computer, pause recording." The doorbell rang again, as Jonathan reached for the clock at his bedside. "Enter," Archer said, as his doorbell rang yet again.  
  
"Good evening, Captain."  
  
"Good evening, Doctor. What can I do for you?"  
  
"I thought you should know," Phlox said, noticing the semi packed suitcase on the bed, "that I had an interesting conversation with Sub-commander T'Pol."  
  
"Really? Come in."  
  
To be continued.... 


	5. Castles in the Air

Disclaimer: Enterprise and its characters are copyrighted by Paramount Studios and Viacom. This is a fictional story, no copyright infringement intended. All stories and original characters belong to their respective author. 

Warning: This story is rated R. It is NOT for the faint of heart. Several chapters of this work will be extremely graphic in nature and may contain violence and adult language and themes. Thanks to Saturn's Orbit for the idea. This is a response to Challenge #7.

Author's Note: I've rewritten parts of this story, so it's better if you start over again at the beginning. Everything inside the lines is flashback.

The Lost

Chapter 5

Castles in the Air

"Looking for something we can rely on

There´s got to be something better out there

Love and compassion

That day is coming

All else are castles in the air."

- We Don't Need Another Hero, by Tina Turner -

Phlox looked around the room. There was one bag, already packed, sitting by the entrance of the captain's closet. The pictures that had once adorned the walls were neatly stacked there as well. Most of the knickknacks were boxed by the entrance to the bathroom. The captain's quarter's looked so bare without his things there. "Doing some redecorating, are you?"

"So, what did you and the Sub-commander talk about?"

"You, actually. She believes you have shown, 'serious lack of judgment' in the past two weeks, and wants me to examine you?"

"Examine me?"

"To make sure you are fit for duty?" Phlox uncharacteristically dragged is voice at the end of the sentence. He didn't believe the Sub-commander's accusations at all, but it was his job to make sure that she wasn't right, and he had to make sure.

"Are you serious? You and I are smart men, Phlox." Jonathan pointed to the packed luggage and boxes littering his quarters. "You can read the writing on the wall as well as I can. Do we really need to do this?" 

Phlox just nodded."If you plan to remain in command of this ship until we dock, yes. Otherwise, you may once again be subject to a mutiny."

Jonathan Archer was backed into a corner. He didn't want to do this, but he had to now. For now, he had to keep the appearance that he was captain of this ship, for the sake of the crew. "Well, how long will this take?"

"Not long."

"Very well then," Jonathan gulped, and sat on his bed. The examination was mostly conversational, the doctor probing into his feelings and thoughts over the past week, especially in the realm of Tucker and Grace. He inquired whether the captain was feeling anxious or depressed lately, and asked how he was sleeping and eating. Phlox even asked about how much playtime Porthos has gotten over the past few days.

"Well, Captain, I'm pleased to inform you that you are in excellent health, and more than capable of commanding this vessel."

Archer slyly smiled. He had fooled the old sawbones into thinking  he was alright. But Jonathan knew different. Phlox didn't probe his thoughts and deelings enough. If he had, Pholx would have found a world of pain, guilt, and resentment. He just smiled, and joked, "Did you really doubt me?"

"I'm just doing my job."

"I know, Phlox," Jonathan said, patting Phlox on the back, "I know. Come on, I'll walk to the turbo lift with you. Porthos, you want to go for a walk?" But the beagle lifted his for only a moment, before going back to sleep. "Lazy dog."

Jonathan reached the bridge, just as Alpha sift was leaving, and the senior staff was taking over. "What's the status on our stalker?"

"No change, sir. It's still there. Just following us."

"Scanners?"

"Still being deflected."

"Very well. Carry on. I'll be in my ready room."

As the doors closed behind him, a morbid curiosity took over. Jonathan was still intrigued by the insignia tattooed on Grace's shoulder. He thought he would take a chance, and look up her name in the Starfleet database. 

"Romanowski, Grace. Middle initial? Well, Trip didn't say anything about a middle initial, but then again, he never did answer my question about her belonging to Starfleet, either."

His screen flashed. Access denied. "Access denied? Why?" He re-typed the information, but got the following message, 'the information you have requested is classified.' Pressing the com button, Archer summoned his Chief Armory officer for assistance.

"I tried to look Grace up in the Starfleet database, but this is the message I got," he said, as he turned the console towards Malcolm's view. "Anything you can do?"

"You mean, can I hack the Starfleet database to get the information you are seeking? Only if I want an instant court-martial followed by several years on a penal colony for treason."

"I see." Jonathan was so disappointed. He desperately wanted to help Grace and Trip, but without knowing more about her, everything about her, it was impossible.

Meanwhile, Trip was getting ready to leave his quarters for the first time in a week. He showered and put on civilian clothes. With a splash of colone, he was ready. He knocked on the door, and Malcome oped it. They rode in silence up three floors to sickbay. Trip walked through the halls hurriedly, as whispers came from the crew. Malcolm stopped at the door, preventing Trip from leaving unattended, while simultaneously pressing the door to open.

"Good morning, Commander. How are you feeling? Something I can help you with?" Phlox asked politely.

"How is she doing?"

"Not much better." This was the part of doctoring Phlox loathed the most – giving the family the bad news. "One by one, her vital organs are shutting down. Every treatment I've tried has failled. There's nothing more that I can do. I'm sorry."

"May I see her?" Phlox pointed to the bio-bed that Grace laid on. As he entered the curtain, he saw something he didn't see in her before. To Trip, Grace had always been larger than life, accepting each new challenge by embracing it fully. She wasn't scared of anything. It was almost as if Grace knew she was invincible, and she lived her life that way. But now, she laid before him unconscious, pale, and bstruggling to breathe. Her skin was translucent, and the veins in her arms looked fat and swollen in against her delicate skin.

There were no bandages, there were no machines or tubes, only Grace, laying on a bed, cold and alone. "Grace," he whispered, as he stroked her forehead. "Grace, I want to tell you something. When I first met you, you know what I felt? Not love or envy, but awe. When I met you, you were… you were the daredevil. You knew exactly what you wanted to do with your life, and you took every chance to get it. God. Now lok at you. Well, you've gotta fight. You have tofight this. I've just got you back. I've just got yu back, and I don't want to lose you again. Not like this. Please…"

"Trip," she spoke softly. "Kill me."

Trip was stunned by her request. Grace was conscious for only a few seconds, before she entered a coma. There was no time for rebuttal, but she made her intentions very clear. She was obviously in a great deal of pain, and she needed it to end. She needed Trip to end it for her.

"I couldn't imagine how angry Trip was at me for what I did. For over a week, he wouldn't even look me in the eye. On several occasions, I went to visit him in his quarters, but he redufed the company. It went on that way for a while. We had crossed the expanse, and were on our way home. Several times, he begged me to let him take a shuttle pod back to the expanse, to find the aliens who did this, hoping that they could cure her. But as I told him, friends don't let friends make bad decisions. Grace was still in a coma, and her condition was deteriorating. There was no hope.It became obvious that no matter how many days Trip stood by her bedside, she wasn't going to get better, and we were too far from home to make it back in time.

Still, Trip visited every day. Security brought him down to sickback at 0700 house, and brought him back to his quarters at 2300 hours. He didn't eat or sleep, until the doctor persisted. I was sure then that I had lost my friend, until he came to my quarters, late one night, after visiting Grace.

"Commander, if you are to keep your vigil, you should really try and eat something."

Trip had been praying and meditating by Grace's bedside. He didn't hear the sick bay doors open, or T'Pol come in. He didn't hear her soft footsteps, or the curtain around Grace's bed open. He turned around to see his friend standing with a tray of food. She had Cook make all of his favorites, in an attempt to tantalize his tastebuds into eating the morishment. "Nice to see you."

But it wasn't just T'Pol who had made the journey. Hoshi, Malcolm, and Travis came as well, to lend their supprot. Only one of his true friends were missing – Jonathan.

"Is there anything we can do?" Malcolm asked.

"Well, if you don't want your liver anymore…" Trip joked, but he broke off, knowing tfull welll that the joke just wasn't funny.

"Maybe we can sit with her a while, while you get some rest, take a hot shower…" Hoshi suggested.

"Thanks, but I really want to stay."

"I could make it an order."

"Now, T'Pol, you're not even in Starfleet," Trip said smiling, "what makes you think you can give me an order?" Everyone laughed. Trip was always the comic relief of the group. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thanks for comin'. If you'd like to sit a while, pull up a chair. But I'm not leavin'."

So they sat there, the four friends, telling stories about their chidhoods, anecdotes to cheer Trip us, remember funny situations they had been through with Enterprise and her crew. An unintentional pause came between jokes, and leaving everyone uncomfortable.

"So, if you don't mind, Trip, what did you and Grace talk about on that stranded ship? Malcolm had always been balsey, but never to this degree.

Trip didn't know what to say. Most of what they had talked about was classified, but he wasn't about to tell Malcolm that. "Castles in the air." 

"Castles in the air? I don't understand. Is that a human fairytale?" T'Pol asked.

"You wouldn't understand." Before long, Phlox came around, announcing the closing of visiting hours, and requesting the dismissal of the four friends to the quarters, for a well deserved sleep.

"Walk you back.? Oh wait," Travis joked, "you already have an escort."

"Very funny Travis."

"Seriously, I'll say a prayer tonight for you and Grace."

"Thanks, Hoshi."

"If you would like to begin neuropressure sessions again, please let me know."

"Yeah, I'll have to think about that, but thanks."

Malcolm was last. He wanted to talk to Trip, really talk to him, but without the company of the others. While Malcolm waited, he silently and inconspicuously exaimed his friend. The bruises were almost gone. The damage done by his captain was practally inoticeable. But there were other scars, ones which would take longer to appear, and longer yet, to go away. "You know, Trip, what the captain did was for the good of the ship, and all her crew."

"So?"

"So, you've been friends for a long time, longer than Enterprise. Talk to him. Don't give up on him. After all, he's never given up on you."

"I'll think about it, Malcolm." Malcolm nodded before leaving sick bay. 

"I'll leave you to say your goodbyes, but no more than five minutes, commander."

"Understood." Trip took offense to Phlox's comments. "Don't listen to him, darlin'" he said to Grace. "He meant goodnights, not goodbyes." He kissed her softly on the forehead, "ill see you tomorrow, Gracie."

"The answer came to me in the middle of the night. Sound asleep, I think I was dreaming, or perhaps remembering the time Trip and I went into the desert for survival training. He kept saying to me in the dream, 'You've got the answer. You've got the answer', but I didn't understand until the next morning, whenI went back to my ready rom. Several PADD's sat on my desk, one of which was the list of items missing from Grace's consealment in the Jeffery's tubes. The PADD listed quite a few items, but whe I read it again the next day, two items stuck out at me. Kenomide and Malawase, two medications that had been taken from the first aid box in the shuttle pod. I looked at the PADD, Intrigued, and then took it to Phlox. Grace had left me the answer toboth questions: how to get my friend back, and how to save Grace."

Trip emerged from his quarters squinting at the bright lights. "If it's alright with you," he said to the security officer in front of his door, "I'd like to go to sickbay. Just for a minute." The young man nodded and escourted Trip, stopping, as always, at sick bay's doors.

Trip walked in. There was no sign of Phlox, which was a good thing. He had made up his mind, and he didn't want to be talked out of it. Trip approached the cabinet containing vital medications. Locked, he had no choice but to break the glass and rob the cabinet of its contents. Loading a hyposray as he walked, he approached Grace's bed. Pulling back the sheet surrounding her, Trip took one last look at Grace, bit his lip, and readied the medication, a  massive dose with which her heart would stop beating, and Grace's request would be fulfilled. Finally she would be resting, finally, she would be at peace. It was the best he could ever hope to do for her.

Phlox hearing the noise rushed towards the biobed, "Commander, what are you doing?"

"She asked me to do this. She asked me, and I couldn't. I wasn't ready," he sobbed. Forcing back the tears, he pressed the hyposrapy to her neck, but removed ift if only temorarily. "Good night Gracie. I'll never forget you." He kissed her gentally on the forehead, and pressed the hyposray to her neck once more.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I have to. I have to do this… for Gracie."

"No, wait…" the captain rushed up. He panted in fear, realief, and exhaustion. "Don't do it.. Not yet." It took Jonathan several minutes to catch his breath enough to speak, but when he did, it spoke volumes. "Grace gave us the answer. The medications missing from the first aid box in the shuttlecraft. She was trying to treat herself, but there wasn't enough in the hyposprays to medicate her. They didn't last long enough."

"Of course, Kenomide and Malawase. That may just work." Phlox went into the back room to mix the medications.

"Don't think that this changes anything between us." The anger in his voice was apparent enough. There was nothing Jonathan could say or do, not even save grace's life, to get his friendship back.

"Trip, please. I did what I had to do."

"What you had to do Jonathan, was beating the living daylights out of me, to give up information about my sister."

"About… what does your sister have to do with this?"

"Grace is my sister, and like any of my family, I'd do anything to protect her, unlike some captains I know, who would beat their best friend for some miscilaneous facts, which did nothing to improve a bad situation.Yeah, I admit, I've been keepin' things from you. That's still doesn't give you the right.You had not right to do what you do. NO RIGHT."

"You're absolutely correct was the only thing I could say. He was my friend, and friends don't let friends make bad decisions, and that was the worst one I've ever made. I don't even know why I did it. Was it that important to find out that she was tortured? We knew that already. The information he gave, albeit gross and disturbing, didn't help Grace in the end. In the end, Grace helped Grace. The medical miracle Phlox worked up did the trick, but it no more helped my friendship with trip than a bandaid would for a bleeding artery. 

"trip was abosultely correct. There is no excuse for what I've done. I sold my soul to the devil, and for what. What does it matter now? Soon, this will be done. We'll be back onEarth, and all of this will be done.

"Computer. Stop recording." Archer looked at his dog, cuddled up on the cusion in the corner of the room. "Goodnight friend," he said, before laying down to sleep.

To Be Continued….


End file.
